Daddy's Little Angel
by Sale
Summary: What if one day, years before Elphaba and Nessarose went to Shiz, Frex found himself forced into pretending to actually LIKE his oldest daughter? Rated T for later chapters.
1. A Word from the Wizard

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Wicked, I just wish I did. I also don't own Mattel or the patent on the Mailbu Barbie doll. I did have one once, and I think it's in pieces somewhere in the attic.

**Author's Note:** This is my first _Wicked_ fic, and my first real attempt (meaning it's neither a oneshot nor a school project run amok) at writing fanfiction without my pal Silver's help. I always wanted to write a fic about Elphie and Nessa as kids, and I needed an outlet for my fandom so it wouldn't adversely affect my grades. Thus, this story happened to get itself written somehow.

* * *

**Daddy's Little Angel**

**Chapter 1: A Word from the Wizard**

Frexspar Thropp sighed as he examined the heaping pile of paperwork scattered over the surface of his desk. Although being the governor of Munchkinland was a demanding profession, nothing in Oz could possibly be as daunting as the task that lay before him at the moment.

He was in the midst of paying off the credit card debt on his youngest daughter's toys.

As the governor sorted through stacks of Oz Express Platinum card bills dating back as far as Nessarose's third birthday, the thought to perhaps say "no" to his favorite child once in a while did cross his mind—very briefly, mind you, but the concept did surface--but in the end, as always, he just went along racking up more and more debt, putting the state of Munchkinland into even greater financial turmoil. As he wrote what seemed like his thousandth check to the Oz Express Platinum card company, his eyes fell upon an emerald green envelope stacked haphazardly between the bills. "Great… the way things are going, the Wizard himself has probably found out about this economic disaster the town's in and wants to boot me out of office!" He grumbled, tearing the envelope open and pulling out a matching sheet of paper.

The letterhead read, "Emerald City Department of Child Welfare." Frex, wondering why he would receive such a document at all, read on. Perhaps he'd spent too much on Nessa's toys after all.

However, such was not the case. "To whom it may concern: " He read aloud to no one in particular. "You have been sent this letter in regard to a phone call we have received concerning the well-being of your eldest daughter, Miss Elphaba Thropp (age eleven). The caller, who wished to remain anonymous, documented several cases of negligence on your part, as well as what was described to us as 'physical repulsion as a result of a highly rare and unusual condition,' which according to our records has afflicted the aforementioned child since birth." It took Frex a while to process what he had just read. He pushed the bills aside and continued to scan the text, the color draining from his face as he read what followed.

"Over the next twenty-four hours, we will be closely monitoring your actions in order to assess whether or not you are capable of adequately fathering young Elphaba. Should you fail to pass our inspection, you will be promptly evicted from your mansion, and both of your children will be summarily placed in the custody of their current nursemaid pending your summons to meet with the Wizard regarding said custody arrangements. Have a nice day."

The letter was stamped with the Wizard's official seal. "Is this some kind of joke?" Frex shouted, momentarily forgetting that his daughters were supposed to be asleep. He paced around his study, now completely disregarding the mountain of debt he owed the Oz Express company. "How in Oz's name am I supposed to get myself out of THIS mess?! He grumbled, his thoughts suddenly flashing towards his older, more verdant child, wondering if she weren't the one who placed that anonymous call from the start. Was Elphaba eleven already? He'd lost track of her age long ago, and couldn't even remember the girl's birthday. How would he ever convince the Wonderful Wizard himself that he wasn't neglecting her?

He needed some time to think. That, and a nice cup of coffee.

Meanwhile, upstairs, with Nessarose blissfully snoring on the other size of the room (flanked by more stuffed animals than any child would ever want or need), Elphaba was huddled next to an air vent, intently listening in as her father rattled off a string of profanity at the Emerald City Department of Child Welfare down in the study. All her hard work was finally about to pay off…

* * *

The next morning started off relatively normal: Elphaba woke up at the crack of dawn, rushing as fast as she could to run a hairbrush through her hair a couple of times, make her bed as quickly as humanly possible, and pull on a shabby-looking secondhand frock before her eight-year-old sister woke up, instantly demanding all of the older child's attention. 

"ELPHABA! Get me my coloring book right now!" Nessarose shouted as loudly as she could. Elphaba, who was in the middle of brushing her teeth, nearly swallowed her toothbrush from the sudden burst of sound.

Elphaba sighed. _And so, the insanity begins once again… _she thought to herself as she spit the toothpaste foam back into the sink, rinsed the brush off, and plodded into the bedroom. "Nessa, it's eight in the morning. You should probably be more concerned with things like getting dressed and looking oh-so-tragically adorable so Daddy can just go on ignoring me like always." She sarcastically explained as her sister pouted, chucking a stuffed lion off the bed in Elphaba's general direction. Nessa had been aiming for her sister's face, but her aim was horrendously off. It landed somewhere near her own overstocked bureau.

The green child just ignored the blatant threat, marched up to her sister's bed, scooped the spoiled little brat up, and plopped her down into her wheelchair. "You seem crankier than usual. Did you accidentally roll on top of Malibu Barbie again in the middle of the night?"

Nessarose shook her head and declared, "Give me the coloring book or I'll tell Daddy on you!"

"I didn't even do anything!" Elphaba nearly shouted, but her sister just raised an eyebrow as if to say, "You don't _need_ to do anything to get Daddy mad at you. Face it, you've lost." Defeated, Elphaba slinked to the bookshelf and grabbed a coloring book, thrusting it towards the handicapped child.

"I wanted the blue coloring book instead!"

Elphaba mustered every ounce of effort she had to suppress her frustration.

* * *

After what seemed like several hours, Elphaba wheeled her sister into the kitchen. Frex had made pancakes that day, and from the smell of things, he'd already burned at least one of them. _I th__ink he must burn them on __purpose._ Elphaba mused to herself, parking her sister in her usual spot. 

Nessarose, who'd never had to stomach the charcoal-flavored, botched efforts of Frex's cooking in her entire life, anxiously waited for her father to do an about-face and tell her how tragic and adorable she looked. She was wearing a blue checked jumper over a white blouse (carefully coordinated by Elphaba), with black shoes (shined by Elphaba). Her hair (braided and curled by Elphaba) was in pigtails, tied with blue ribbons (by Elphaba), and all in all she looked just as tragically adorable as…well, as she did every other day of the week.

Elphaba took her own seat and waited with baited breath, hoping that at least the inside of the pancake had been salvaged this time. It was only a matter of moments before Frex would turn around, shower her sister with compliments and affection, leaving the older daughter alone to wallow in solitude eating her charcoal.

Finally, Frex extinguished the stove and turned around. The twisted, contorted, clearly falsified grin plastered onto his face made both girls recoil in shock. It gave them the impression of someone who'd just been forced to swallow a large quantity of dish soap and pretend it tasted like chocolate pudding.

"GOOD MORNING ELPHABA!" The governor all but shouted through his tense, almost psychotic smile. Judging from the dark circles under his eyes, it seemed as though he'd spent hours trying to rehearse the greeting, yet still couldn't figure out how to get it right in time. The result was enough to scare the pants off the Wizard himself. "We're going to have SUCH a GREAT time spending ALL DAY together!"

Elphaba and Nessarose both stared at their father in utter bewilderment, not quite sure as to what to say to such a blatantly fake—and creepy—display of affection. What in Oz's name was going on?


	2. Fun with Pancakes

**Disclaimer**: I still own nothing.

**Author's Note: **It's musicalverse. I apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused. Like I said, I'm new to _Wicked_ fanfiction and its terminology.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Fun ****With**** Pancakes**

Frex slapped a steaming hot, perfectly-formed pancake onto Elphaba's plate. He'd drizzled pancake batter into the pan before pouring the pancake mix on top, so the image of a smiley face had been baked into the confection. Needless to say, in his efforts to perfect the smile, the governor had botched about a dozen flapjacks in the process.

Nessarose leaned over the table, scrutinized her sister's impeccable pancake, and scowled. "Hey! I _never_ got a pancake with a smiley face on it in my whole life! How come Elphaba gets one now?" She demanded.

Her father ignored her and psychotically smiled at Elphaba again. Elphaba, fully aware of the circumstances behind Frex's unorthodox actions, tried to play dumb. "Daddy, I think you gave me the wrong pancake."

"What, is the smiley face not big enough?" Frex bargained. "Do you want any maple syrup? Blueberries? Powdered sugar?" He held up several boxes and jars as if to prove to the girl that he had the various toppings in stock.

Elphaba sighed. She was going to have to do this the hard way. "You hate me, remember? You hated me yesterday, you hated me the day before…in fact, other than today, I can't think of a single day you _haven't_ hated me. What's _really_ going on here?"

"Oh Elphaba, I never hated you!" Frex exclaimed, his voice as sugary sweet as the syrup in the pitcher he was holding. "How could I possibly hate my _favorite _daughter in all of Oz?"

"WHAT?!" Nessa shrieked, sincerely hoping she'd misinterpreted her father's statement. "Daddy, what about me? Last night you told me _I_ was your favorite daughter, right after you bought me that toy lion at OzMart!"

Again, Nessa's words went unheard. The young girl impatiently drummed her fingers on the armrests of her wheelchair, waiting for both an explanation and a pancake. However, her father just whistled a merry little tune to himself as he slathered her older sister's pancake with syrup. She took a deep breath. It wasn't even nine in the morning, and it already seemed as though Nessarose Thropp would have to resort to drastic measures just to get herself noticed. It had to have been a new record.

She began to sing. For a child of her age, her voice was startlingly captivating. The melody was one she'd been singing for as far back as she could remember, but the words, as always, had been improvised to fit the current situation.

_"Dad, I want a pancake!_

_I'm so hungry that my guts ache!_

_Please give me food so I don't starve and die!"_

"Oh great, she's singing again…" Elphaba moaned to herself as Nessa continued the all-too-familiar song and Frex continued to saturate her breakfast with syrup.

_"I've been waiting here all day_

_Trying not to waste away,_

_Listen, Daddy! Oh, please tell me why_

_My sister gets the smiley face!_

_As favorite kid, was I replaced?_

_I deserve…some breakfast!_

Elphaba resisted the urge to give her sister a round of sarcastic applause. She had heard the song far too many times for her liking, usually in toy stores or at checkout counters, and sadly, not once in her recollection had it ever failed to work its magic on Frex.

Even now, the governor had momentarily dropped his guard and nearly forgot to stop drowning Elphaba's pancake in syrup. He fumbled with the pitcher, poised to instantly leap to Nessarose's beck and call, when realization struck home: He wasn't supposed to play favorites with Nessa that day. So, resisting the urge to fabricate the ultimate breakfast concoction for his tragically adorable little bundle of sunshine, he took a deep breath and after what seemed like years, finally replied, "The plate's still on the stove—you can get a pancake yourself, can't you?"

Even Elphaba's jaw nearly hit the floor at that. There were only about four or five things she could honestly say that Nessa regularly did for herself, and neither one of those involved anything that remotely resembled serving breakfast. This situation would inevitably end with broken dishes and moderately-charred pancakes strewn all over the kitchen floor, and in some way shape or form, _she'd_ be the one taking all the blame for it.

She tentatively eyed the sugar-saturated delight of a pancake on her own plate. It seemed to be grinning idiotically at her, as if to say, "Boy, have you made a mess of things today!" Purely out of spite, the green girl jabbed at the confection with her fork, tore a large piece out of it, and shoved it into her mouth.

The sheer amount of sucrose present in that solitary bite of pancake made Elphaba shudder uncontrollably. Never before had she consumed so much fluffy, sugary deliciousness at once, and she immediately began to yearn for the charcoal crunch of the breakfast she was more accustomed to. As her teeth gradually began to stop chattering, she noticed (to Frex's relief as much as her own) that Nessa's arms were too short to reach anything Frex might have put on top of the stove.

"N-Nessa…" Elphaba began, still twitching from the sugar, her brown eyes glazing over from the overwhelming sweetness, "You can have m-mine if you w-want…"

Nessarose swiveled around, suspiciously eyeing the green, almost spastic child. "What's the catch?" She retorted, thinking that perhaps Frex had slipped something into the pancake on purpose to get Elphaba out of his hair—or what was left of it—for good. Judging from Elphaba's reaction to the sugar, he might as well have.

"N-no catch…N-nessa, please! T-too…much…sugar…" Elphaba uttered, scrambling out of her seat and lunging for the plate of pancakes on the stove, trying to find one that was more suited to her liking. "I only t-took one bite of it."

Nessa cautiously eyeballed the smiling, syrupy confection on Elphaba's plate. It now had one missing eye, but it definitely looked more edible than any of the other pancakes Frex had attempted to produce. As her father mentally agonized over the way things were turning out, she grabbed Elphaba's plate and wheeled herself back to her spot.

Elphaba, who was in a nearly-uncontrollable fit of giggles from the sugar rush, held back every urge to shout, "Hey Dad, get the camera! Nessa's _multitasking_!" In the end, she decided not to risk it and just sat down to eat her wedge of charcoal.

* * *

"So, as I was saying," Frex finally announced with his psycho-grin back in place, after both girls were happily eating their breakfast and Elphaba's temporary sugar high had subsided, "Today is going to be a BIG day, Elphaba! I've got LOTS and LOTS of FUN surprises planned for us! Won't that be FUN?"

The thought to wonder what kind of crazy things Frex found "fun" crossed Elphaba's mind, and based on the man's concept of a delicious pancake, she drew the conclusion that their ideas were bound to be VERY different. Would they be going to Ozmart and burning a hole in Frex's pocket on toys for Nessa? What _did_ Frex do when he took Nessa out to go plan a "fun" day?

She glanced at her sister, who was shoveling bits of sugar-coated fluff into her mouth at what seemed like the speed of sound. Miraculously, none of the syrup had dripped onto her jumper yet. Elphaba figured Frex's idea of "fun" was going to be something she'd discover on her own, and turned toward her father again.

"Daddy, are you sure you want to be…um…_seen_ with me? You know, in public?" She asked, trying to weasel her way out of Frex's itinerary. "You said it yourself…I'm a freak of nature! How many OTHER green kids are going to be walking around town with _their_ dads?"

Frex faltered for a moment, and then replied with a voice that made both of his daughters shudder, "It doesn't matter what anybody says or thinks, as long as I get to spend quality time with YOU today!"

Elphaba rolled her eyes. _I bet Daddy's__ going to__concoct some crazy scheme__ to make up for all those__ votes __he'll__ lose__because of me_. She thought with a sigh as her father jumped to his feet, humming a merry tune and putting Elphaba's dishes into the sink with his own. _The way things have been going so far__, his only chance of remaining in office would be __if nobody else ran against him_.

"What about me?" Nessarose innocently asked, setting her fork back onto the table.

"You'll just stay here. The nurse should be here in about ten minutes," Frex replied. "While you're waiting, you can draw some nice pictures or something." He handed his daughter the blue coloring book she'd brought to the table and a box of average-quality crayons. "Elphaba, _sweetie, _put on your coat and shoes or we'll be late."

Elphaba did as she was told and moments later, both of them were out the door and on their way to whatever glorious adventure Frex had planned. Of course, had the governor bothered to check his phone messages while he was making breakfast, he would have learned that the nurse was sick that day and couldn't look after the kids…

**-****To Be Continued -**


	3. A Lousy Start

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own _Wicked. _If anyone wants to sell it to me, I have $2.63.

**Author's Note:**E# above middle C. No, wait, I don't own _that_ either.

* * *

**Chapter 3: A Lousy Start**

Elphaba struggled to keep up with her father's brisk pace. Frex struggled to dodge the curious glances several dozen passing Munchkins shot him. They'd only been out for several minutes, and tensions were already at an all-time high.

The governor knew he would regret taking the main road from the moment they set out. Since it had rained the previous afternoon, most of the backroads were still flooded, and Elphaba had inexplicably insisted upon avoiding them at all costs. He begrudgingly consented to his daughter's wishes, knowing that the Wizard's agents could be scrutinizing him at any given moment. The result: the citizens of Munchkinland now had the perfect opportunity to gawk at Governor Thropp's _other_ daughter, the one Frex himself had deemed too freakish to ever see the light of day.

"Are we there _yet_?" Elphaba asked, annoyed, as a group of three absurdly short women ogled her in bewilderment.

"Elphaba, if we'd taken the backroads like I suggested earlier, we'd have been there ages ago and I—er, I mean, _you_ wouldn't have so many people staring at you like that." He tried to scoff as politely as he could.

"I didn't want to get water in my shoes!" Elphaba hurriedly exclaimed as she darted up to Frex's side.

The governor did everything in his power to keep from quickening his pace even more. _Since when did Elphaba care about getting her shoes wet?_ He wondered to himself, frowning.

* * *

Frex's premonition was realized the moment they finally reached their first destination.

"You've got to be kidding me." Elphaba uttered, staring warily at the lake as it sparkled in the morning sunlight. "You _know_ I can't swim, and you _know_ I really have no desire to ever learn how, remember?"

"Oh, we're not going _swimming._" Frex replied, straining to smile reassuringly. All it did was make his daughter even more uncomfortable than she already was. "I'm going to take you for a ride in my sailboat! The wind's just right, and there's nothing like a seafaring adventure to encourage some good old-fashioned father-daughter bonding between…"

"Daddy, don't sailboats fall over a lot?" Elphaba nervously interrupted.

"Only if the captain doesn't know what he's doing." Frex replied with a self-confident grin. However, his "encouraging" statement only served to exacerbate the already-tense situation.

"Why can't we do something else, like go to the library?" The green girl urged, slowly backing away.

"Elphiekins, trust me, it'll be oodles and oodles of fun!" Frex squealed in an ungodly high-pitched voice, as if he were being filmed. He whipped a bright orange life vest out of a white wooden box next to the dock, and yanked it down over his child's head. "Wear this. Even if we tip over, you won't drown." He added very quickly.

The garment, if you could call it that, only served to make Elphaba look like a misshapen pumpkin. She doubted the piece of foam rubber could ever keep her afloat in the event of an accident. Her father ignored the petrified look on her face, seized her hand, and literally dragged her down the dock to where his boat was bobbing up and down in the water.

* * *

After about five minutes on what Elphaba's father mistakenly called "the high seas," the boat had still not fallen over. Frex shook his head as he adjusted the sail. Who'd have guessed Elphaba was afraid of water? It wasn't like he spent enough time with her to know that sort of thing. He hoped the incident wouldn't count against him too much at the end of the day...

Elphaba sat huddled in the fetal position near the center of the boat, as far away from the water as she could manage to get. The thing that scared her the most, believe it or not, was neither the notion of being so unfathomably close to water, nor the notion of _her father _being the one in charge of making sure she stayed dry. It was instead the fact that Frex had called this their "first" destination. She shuddered at the prospect of whatever crazy errand her father had thought up for the two of them to do next, and seriously doubted it would involve anything remotely resembling a trip to the library to read books.

In fact, she also seriously doubted that Frex even picked up on that oh-so-subtle hint she'd dropped shortly before being unceremoniously stuffed into that ludicrous vest. She shot a penetrating glare at her father, the ferocity of which nearly made him drop the rope he was holding.

"Elphaba, what's wrong?" Frex asked, tying the rope down and walking over to his daughter. Despite the fact that they were both on a boat in the middle of nowhere, out of pure paranoia he tried to look as concerned as he possibly could.

"Can we go back? I _really_ don't like being wet…" Elphaba shuddered.

"Elphaba, you aren't wet at all," Frex observed, struggling to keep from losing his patience.

"Some water droplets splashed me in the face that one time the wind picked up," Elphaba continued, nearly hyperventilating from the recollection, "Please, can't you just turn the boat around? We can go home and then you'll never have to spend time with me ever again."

"Elphaba, _sweetie_, what makes you think I'd ever want to pass up a glorious opportunity to spend the day with you?" Her father smiled, his face oozing phony compassion as he knelt down and wrapped his arm around the child a bit too tightly for her liking. In fact, he was practically cutting off her circulation. As Elphaba changed from jade to a rather dark shade of turquoise from the overwhelming force of the fake hug, Frex continued, "You have to be _open_ to the idea of trying new things once in a while. Your sister had the same reservations as you did the first time she went out on my boat, but after the first dozen times, she eventually warmed up to it."

Suddenly, all those memories of Nessa coming home soaking wet and extremely annoyed after spending the day with Frex started to make sense to Elphaba. She severely doubted her father had gotten any better at keeping the boat upright since. In fact, as she struggled to break free of her father's death grip, a sense of foreboding overwhelmed her as she noticed that nobody was keeping an eye on the rigging.

Naturally, at that very moment, the wind suddenly shifted, causing the vessel to capsize almost immediately.

* * *

As Frex begrudgingly guided his prized boat back to shore after a painstaking struggle to get it afloat again, the green girl resumed her earlier position, shivering and twitching like she'd just had another "perfect" pancake. Unfortunately, this time the twitching wasn't accompanied with a sugar high. Frex, disappointed that he was unable to spend more time out on the water, sighed for what seemed like the trillionth time that morning. "I hope you're happy," He finally uttered after a tense moment of silence. "I'm going back to the dock."

Elphaba just stared Frex down. _If you REALLY cared about me, you wouldn't have taken me on this crazy contraption in the first place, and I'd still be dry! _She thought to herself, hating Frex even more than she had the day before. As a matter of fact, she was beginning to regret calling the Department of Child Welfare in the first place.

She could only hope that whatever Frex forced her to do next, it would NOT involve getting wet. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to go back to the mansion and change into a drier frock. At the thought of dry clothes, Elphaba was suddenly struck with a brilliant idea.

"Dad, can we go shopping after this?" She asked, completely out of nowhere. "I could really use some new clothes. This also happens to be my only pair of shoes, and as you can _plainly_ see, they're soaked."

"But Elphiekins, I've planned out the ENTIRE day!" Frex replied. "I can't stop to buy you a pair of shoes and clothes. It'll cut into the schedule!"

"That works out perfectly then, considering your little 'sailing adventure' got cut short." Elphaba calculated. Frex cringed. The green kid was smarter than she looked. "What's wrong? You buy Nessa new clothes and shoes _all the time_, and I haven't gotten anything new since…"

Frex laughed out loud and cut her off before she could finish her sentence. "Well, I suppose I could always charge it to the old Oz Express Platinum card..." He trailed off, mentally calculating the number of years it would take him to fully pay off the credit card debt if he kept charging things the way he did. As the color drained from his face, Elphaba smiled to herself. At least _something _good would come out of this disaster of a day.

* * *

As Elphaba strolled out of the local Ozmart in her brand-new, navy blue sundress and matching shoes, Frex cursed the day the Emerald City Department of Child Welfare was established, staring at the receipt in his hand. "Biggest savings this side of Quadling Country? Biggest savings, my ass!" He muttered under his breath. "I'm going to go down in history as the governor who spent his entire career giving the people's tax money away to the Oz Express company!" Again, the thought to cut back on Nessa's toy expenses crossed his mind. He shook the fleeting notion off and turned toward Elphaba. "_Princess_, we probably shouldn't waste any more time or we'll be late!" He announced, as Elphaba scrutinized a nearby candy machine.

"What's this thing?" Elphaba asked out loud as she jiggled the handle. Frex grabbed her hand at once, dragging her in the opposite direction.

"You put money in and it gives you candy." Frex tried to explain as quickly as possible as they walked off. "Based on your reaction to the syrup and sugar I put on your pancake this morning, I think you should leave it alone and follow me."

Elphaba remembered the unexpected surge of energy and giddiness again and didn't bother to question Frex's judgment. "So, where are we going _now_?" She asked. "It doesn't have anything to do with water, does it?"

"Of course not," Frex quickly finished. That much, he _could_ promise her.

**-To Be Continued-**


	4. The Ozian Pastime

* * *

**Disclaimer: **Everything you've already heard of isn't mine. Everything that sounds as if it were made-up on the spot probably _is_ mine.

**Author's Note: **This chapter is dedicated to Silver, who's usually responsible for practically thinking up all the best gags in…well, in just about every fanfic I've co-written with her. And whose birthday was about a week ago. Happy birthday!

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Ozian Pastime**

"Peanuts! Popcorn!"

"Get your ice, cold lemonade, right here!"

"Hot dogs!"

"Fried Lard-on-a-Stick!"

Elphaba had never heard so many solicitations at once before. The effect was downright overwhelming. "Daddy, what's going on?!" She yelled as her father pulled her through the dense crowd of Ozians, which mostly consisted of men about her father's age and young boys. Every so often, she'd spot somebody with strange markings on their face or with an oversized, green foam rubber finger over their hand. And, strangely enough, nobody was giving her any odd looks.

"We're going to see a Quoxball game!" Frex giddily announced, slapping an odd-looking green cap with a brim on the front onto his daughter's head.

"What? You mean that..._thing _you watch on the Oz Sports Network?" Elphaba skeptically questioned. "That retarded game where a bunch of old guys in tights throw balls carved out of quoxwood at each other and try not to get killed? I _seriously_ have to sit through that for the next two hours?"

Frex once again fought the urge to lose his temper entirely in defense of his favorite sport. "Elphiekins, remember what I said earlier today? You have to keep an open mind." He uttered through an excruciatingly forced smile. The act caused muscle strain so severe that he began to sweat profusely. His left eye began to twitch as he continued, "There's a lot more to it than what you think—there's a lot of intricate strategy behind all the plays, you'll see!"

Elphaba watched as two big, muscular looking, hairy men passed by, slapping each other on the back and guzzling some sort of alcoholic beverage. "I doubt THOSE guys are here for the intricate strategy," she observed.

"Elphaba, do you know how much it _costs _to see the Emerald City Wizards play?" Frex hissed in her ear. "I bend over backwards for you! You should be grateful! Not only that, today is the day they go up against their long-time rivals, the Vinkus Blue Diamonds, so this is one of the most anticipated games of the season!"

"Whatever," Elphaba sighed, knowing that any sort of justification for her indifference she so much as dared to present would be futile at best. "Can I at least have a hot dog?"

"I don't know." Frex replied. He frantically checked his pockets for signs of anything remotely resembling cash as they shuffled past Quoxball fanatics of all shapes, sizes, and degrees of hairiness. "They don't take credit cards here." Elphaba, who hadn't eaten since breakfast, clenched her teeth in frustration. Frex sure wasn't very good at pretending to care about her.

* * *

About ten minutes later, they finally arrived at the seats specified on their tickets. As they sat down in the average-quality stadium chairs, flanked by a grotesque munchkin who was even wider than he was tall on one side and a drunken young man wearing a Shiz University jacket on the other, a loud cheer rang through the crowd as the players strutted onto the field. One team was wearing a bright green uniform, and the other was wearing white with blue pinstripes. 

"Woah!" The Shiz student exclaimed to Frex, pointing at Elphaba. "You must be a pretty big Wizards fan if you painted your kid green!"

Frex stood stunned for a moment, not sure how to reply. Then he exclaimed (almost too quickly), "Of course I am! I'd have painted myself too, but I ran out of green paint. So, who do you think is going to…?"

As Frex and the drunk prattled on and on and on about the moronic game, Elphaba stood up, ready to sneak out of her seat and try and track down one of those hot dog vendors. However, Frex noticed just as she was about to slip out of reach, and seized her by the collar.

"Sit down! It's starting!" He nearly shouted. Elphaba rolled her eyes and sat back down.

_Rats. Looks like I have to sit through this after all._ She thought to herself as she watched the emerald-clad Quoxball players scatter across the field.

* * *

About an hour passed, and nobody had scored even once. Frex was at the edge of his seat. Elphaba was slumped down in her own, just about to slip into a deep sleep. Even though everybody mistook her verdigris for excessive Wizards fandom on her father's part, she wasn't even basking in her "normalcy" at all. That was just how downright boring the Quoxball game was to the preteen.

Unfortunately, just as she was about to drift off into dreamland, sparing herself the ennui of having to sit through any more of that monotonous excuse for a sport, an obnoxiously loud buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the first half of the game.

The green girl shrieked in alarm at the sudden noise, nearly jumping three feet off her seat. The adjacent munchkin gave her an annoyed glare as she landed. The tremor from the landing had caused his carton of nachos to topple onto the child's brand-new dress. She cringed, wiping a glob of cheese off the garment. It left behind a strange-smelling, greenish stain.

"Daddy?" Elphaba asked, tugging on her father's sleeve. "Can I go wash this persistent, greasy stain off my dress in the bathroom?"

"Elphaba, how'd you wind up getting all messy when I didn't even buy you any food?" Frex snarled. "I swear, you little…"

His words trailed off mid-sentence. He'd been so focused on the Wizards game that he'd completely forgotten that the _real_ Wizard probably had several spies watching him at that very moment! After all, this wasn't just any public place—this was the Wizards/Blue Diamonds game!

"Why, of _course_ you can, my sweet little Elphabie-welphabie!" He finished, his voice unnaturally spiking several octaves. "And whatever you do, _don't_ get lost!"

Elphaba rolled her eyes as she scampered into the stadium. More snack stands lined the inside, and she made a mental note of which section of the stands she'd come from. As tempting as it sounded, losing herself in the crowd wasn't an option, especially since she wasn't capable of finding her way back to Munchkinland without her father.

As she shoved her way through the crowd, she nearly stumbled into what she thought was a passing munchkin, tripping and falling onto the ground and knocking the other spectator's fried Lard-on-a Stick to the ground. However, as she watched the other spectator pick up his fallen snack, she realized that he was, in fact, a boy roughly her own age.

A boy with the blue diamonds of the opposing team haphazardly painted all over his body.

The strange child immediately turned towards Elphaba, his eyes wide. "Holy crap! You seriously like the Wizards enough to paint yourself green?"

"I-I hate Quoxball!" Elphaba stammered, trying to skirt the subject of her skin tone as much as possible without sounding completely random. "My dad dragged me here against my will!"

"Oh." The boy replied, heaving a sigh. Was it a sigh of relief? "Same here. At least _your_ dad did a better job with the paint. I think mine got some blue up my nose." He took a nice, long lick of the fried lard he'd picked up.

"Is that stuff any good?" Elphaba asked, skeptically raising an eyebrow and eyeing the grayish log of grease. "Did you even bother to look at what goes into it?"

The boy shrugged. "It's actually not that bad. Wanna lick?" He asked. He shoved the mass of polysaturated fat into her face.

The green girl recoiled in revulsion. "That's disgusting!" She squealed, despite the nagging feeling in her gut telling her to just suck it up and eat the lard while she had the chance.

"Suit yourself," he resigned as Elphaba walked off. He followed her through the crowd as she briskly walked towards the girls' bathroom, taking a bite out of his snack and chomping loudly. "So," he persisted, the chunk of lard still in his mouth, "if you don't like Quoxball, what do you do for fun?"

"What's it to you?" She asked, turning towards him and giving him a look that she'd fervently hoped would send him packing. Unfortunately for Elphaba, he just stared at her with a blank expression on his face, chewing, until she finally gave him the answer. "Okay, if it REALLY means that much to you, I read books. Happy?"

The boy looked at her as though she had three heads. "You _what?" _He inquired, as though he didn't hear.

"B-O-O-K-S. Books! I _read_ books! You know, those things with words in them, and the occasional picture?" Elphaba sarcastically snapped back. "Are you retarded or something?

"You've gotta be _kidding_ me!" The child exclaimed, prematurely swallowing the greasy sports delicacy and choking on the hunk of blubber. "Only geeks and nerds _read_! Everyone who's anyone is into that veletision thing the Wizard invented!"

"You mean 'television,' right?" Elphaba asked, perplexed at this boy's idiocy. Even though he was probably the only kid other than Nessa who'd ever seen her for anything other than a freak, she was beginning to become quite annoyed with this diamond-studded dunce. "It's not that big of a word, you know. And according to the Emerald City Times, the _television_ was actually a pre-established invention in the Wizard's original dimension, or whatever it was he came from in the first place."

"Wow, you really ARE a nerd!" The boy laughed. "Do you get good grades in school like the nerds on the telly-vision do?"

Elphaba didn't even bother to correct him this time. "I don't go to school." She muttered.

"You're kidding! Neither do I!" He nearly shouted in her ear. "Did they kick you out too?" The green girl was about to spout off another stream of sarcasm, when he suddenly added, "Hey, did you notice there's a cheese stain on your dress?"

The green girl let out a near-inhuman shriek of aggravation. "Shut up! Why do you keep asking me such STUPID questions? I don't even KNOW you! Not only that, but that fried lard looks really, REALLY revolting! And another thing…"

Suddenly, a large man wearing a Blue Diamonds jacket appeared behind the boy, just as Elphaba's temper was about to run out completely. "There you are, Fiyero! I should've known better than to bring you here without the leash this time…"

The boy glanced nervously at the newcomer. "Dad, please!" He replied, his cheeks turning red. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

Fiyero's father glanced to where his son was pointing, only to see Elphaba banging her head on one of the stadium's pillars in frustration. The man's eyes filled with crocodile tears. "My little boy is growing up…I can't believe I missed your first Quoxball fight! Finally, you understand what it really means to be a Blue Diamonds fan! _Son,_ _I am so proud of you!_"

As Fiyero's father squeezed the life out of him, Elphaba darted into the ladies' room, hoping she would never, EVER have to deal with that obnoxiously dim-witted boy again.

* * *

After about thirty minutes of intense scrubbing, Elphaba had managed to reduce the stain to a dark greenish ring about an inch from the edge of her skirt. If she squinted really hard, it was barely noticeable, but it still smelled terrible. It reminded her of a sickening combination of grease, cheese, and low-quality soap that Frex had tried to pass off as a casserole once. She trudged back through the stadium to her seat, her stomach having nearly turned inside-out from hunger.

The score, naturally, hadn't changed a bit. The fat munchkin had purchased another carton of nachos, but otherwise, the whole scene looked just as it did before she'd left. Frex's eyes were the size of saucers, and he was starting to drool a little as the tiny figures darting around the field pelted each other with the wooden spheroids. Elphaba slumped down into her seat, her eyes fixated on the clock. Since she'd taken her sweet time in the bathroom, there were only five minutes left in the game.

She decided she could tolerate a five-minute wait while the players wrapped up whatever it was they were trying to accomplish. Throughout the first half, she'd failed to pick up on whatever strategy her father had thought existed in the game, so she didn't even bother watching the action. In fact, she found it slightly more entertaining to read the advertisements scattered around the stadium.

Approximately three hundred agonizing seconds later, the buzzer sounded. Elphaba shot up out of her seat, seized her father's hand, and turned towards the aisle. "Come on, Dad, let's go to the library!" She exclaimed as she tried to pull Frex into a standing position.

Frex gave Elphaba the exact same look she herself gave Fiyero all those minutes ago. "Elphaba, the game isn't over." He said flatly.

The child froze in her tracks. "I beg your pardon?" She uttered, afraid of what was to come.

"Since nobody scored any points, they're going to go into overtime." He explained. "The game can't end until somebody scores."

Elphaba slapped herself in the forehead, mentally cursing her rotten luck.

**-****To Be Continued -**

**Endnote: **Sorry, as cute as it may sound _now_, I'm_ not _turning this into a Pre-Shiz Fiyeraba. Just thought I'd clear that up now while I still can.


	5. Alone and Reckless Here

**Disclaimer:** It'd be really nice if I owned Wicked. But really, if I did, I wouldn't be writing _fanfiction_—all this stuff would just magically become canon. And if that were the case, I'd probably wind up getting beat up by all those people who wanted Elphaba and Fiyero to start dating in the previous chapter.

**Author's Note: **I'd like to dedicate this chapter to everyone who thinks strawberry cake in itself is just one big joke.

* * *

**Chapter 5: ****Alone and Reckless Here…**

As Elphaba sat through the unnecessarily long Quoxball overtime stretch, miles away, in scenic Munchkinland, a certain tragically adorable little girl was wreaking her own brand of havoc.

When we last left Nessarose Thropp, she had been carelessly left unattended in the mansion under the impression that the nurse would be arriving within the next ten minutes, with only a coloring book and a box of crayons to keep her company. She skimmed through the pages, finally stopping on a scenic cityscape. As she delicately scribbled in the book, being extra-careful to stay inside the lines like Elphaba had taught her years ago, she began to wonder why her father had been acting so strangely. After her sister had spent so much time making her look cute, she'd received _no reaction from Frex whatsoever_. No 'good morning,' no special pancake, no hug, no extravagant charges on the Oz Express Platinum card…something was definitely up. And then, of course, there was the matter of that creepy smile Frex had plastered on his face all morning…

The handicapped child nonchalantly hummed her signature melody as she doodled a house in the upper left-hand corner of the page she was on. The effect was almost surrealistic, as if by some bizarre twister of fate, the building had taken flight on its own. Nessa stared at the drawing, mesmerized at the strange notion. "Brilliant!" She exclaimed to nobody in particular, ripping the page out of the blue book. She'd already convinced herself some poor chump would look at the mediocre crayon drawing, see it for the masterpiece _she_ thought it was, and purchase it for some exorbitant amount of money.

As she daydreamed about the piles and piles of toys she'd inevitably buy with these newfound riches, the phone rang in Frex's office, knocking her out of her childish reverie. The apparent zillionaire artist wheeled herself towards the sound, mildly annoyed and severely hoping that whoever was on the other line wasn't trying to sell anything.

It was the nurse, calling to see if Frex had gotten the message.

"What message?" Nessa innocently asked.

"A few hours ago I called and left a message telling your father I was sick and couldn't take care of you and your sister today," the nurse explained. Nessa's jaw nearly hit the floor. _Frex had left her home alone for the entire day without even realizing it!_

She figured she had two options to choose from at this point: she could tell the nurse the truth, forcing the sick, overworked woman to come up to the mansion to do the necessary babysitting, since Frex would indubitably either fire her or cut her pay if he ever found out she'd left his favorite daughter unattended for more than five minutes.

Or she could just lie. However, she did have one problem with that option. Because begging, pleading, whining, crying, tantrum-throwing, looking cute, and singing had worked so often in the past, Nessa didn't get very many opportunities to get good at the delicate craft of fabrication. Though considering the way breakfast had gone, today wasn't going to be ordinary by any means, so Nessa just blurted out the first thing that popped into her head.

"Daddy's pooping. He's been in the bathroom forever. I think he's _constipated_." She whispered into the receiver.

The nurse paused for an unnaturally long time. Nessa had a strong suspicion she didn't believe a word she'd just heard. After what seemed like ages, she finally replied, "Oh. That's…er…interesting. Do you think you could give him the message when he gets done with…er…"

"Of course!" The spoiled girl exclaimed very quickly. "Okaygottagobye!" She slammed the receiver back on the hook and heaved a sigh of relief. That was easy!

* * *

Nessarose decided that she should first fix herself a nice, nutritious lunch, since she hadn't eaten for hours. She wheeled herself into the kitchen and opened the fridge, scanning the shelves for something worth eating.

"Hmmm…leftovers? Nah." She commented, shoving a foil-covered pot to one side of the refrigerator. "Broccoli? Too yucky." She continued, shoving another pot out of the way. Suddenly, near the back of the shelf, she spotted an odd-looking container.

"What's this?" She wondered, reaching as far as she could without toppling out of her chair to bring the dish out of the refrigerator. She'd didn't even remember Frex _owning _a jar of that shape and color. She seized the container in both hands and pried the lid off.

Unfortunately, it appeared as though that particular container hadn't been opened in several weeks. A stomach-churning odor wafted up out of the vessel, causing the pint-sized paraplegic to gag uncontrollably and frantically try to jam the lid back in its place.

However, Nessa lost her hold on the container as she was forced to inhale a second wave of the stench, and it summarily toppled to the ground, shattering upon impact. A greenish, grayish glob of goo oozed its way out onto the freshly-mopped linoleum. The child flung the lid across the room and frantically backed out of the way as the substance gradually overtook the kitchen floor. _Maybe I should just call the nurse so she can clean this up…_ She thought, retreating into her father's office.

"No!" She exclaimed out loud. "I am NOT going to lose my vacation just because of one yucky mess!" Her eyes darted across Frex's desk, landing on a leather-bound book of telephone numbers. She would just get her lunch delivered! She picked up the manuscript and started flipping through the list of numbers until she found one that caught her eye…

* * *

"Bertie's Bakery, how may I help you?" A gangly teenager apathetically mumbled into the phone.

"I'd like a strawberry cake." The voice on the other end replied in a rather commanding tone. "And some chocolate chip cookies, and some donuts, and candy, and chocolate ice cream, and…"

"How _old _are you?" The teenage clerk asked. From the sound of things, the girl he was talking to couldn't have possibly been any older than seven or eight! "Do your parents know you're ordering all this junk food?"

"My daddy's constipated right now, so he told me to order some nutritious lunch." The girl confidently asserted. "Just deliver it to the governor's mansion and put it on the Oz Express Platinum card." She then proceeded to recite Frex's credit card number from memory in an attempt to charge her oh-so-nutritious lunch to her father's account.

"Is this some kind of prank?" The teenager interrogated. "You know, credit card fraud is illegal."

"It's _not _credit card fraud! My daddy's really pooping!" The child insisted. "And I want a strawberry cake delivered to the governor's mansion _now_!"

The teenager hesitated for a bit, and then headed into the back room, where a young woman was mixing up a rather large vat of bright pink cake batter. Her nametag read, "T. Wolf: Manager."

"Boss, there's this little girl on the phone asking me to deliver a ridiculously large load of desserts to Governor Thropp's house. She even gave me this credit card number. It sounds really fishy…"

"She is paying us, though, right?" The manager asked.

"Do we take Oz Express?" The employee inquired with a slight waver in his tone.

"We do now," The young woman replied with a cackle as she poured about a gallon of the mix into a colossal cake pan. "Don't keep our customer waiting!"

"Yes, ma'am!" The clerk exclaimed as he darted back to the phone. "What was that credit card number again?"

* * *

Back in Frex's mansion, Nessarose rattled off the digits again. Her father had used that credit card so often, she'd committed the number to memory. "And I wanted a strawberry cake, chocolate chip cookies, donuts, candy, and a gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream."

The man on the other end confirmed the order and told her the food would be delivered to her doorstep in about a half an hour. Nessa hung up, wheeled back out into the den, and flipped on the television. There was a Quoxball game on the OSN.

"Bo-ring," she commented, flipping the channel. It felt so good to finally get that off her chest after being forced to sit through so many of those tedious games with her father. It was even worse than all those times he'd forced her to go sailing with him—they'd lost at least seven wheelchairs from all the times he'd capsized the boat.

The good news was that Frex had subscribed to the Wizardly Wireless Network, so she had about five hundred non-Quoxball channels to choose from. The bad news was that he'd put parental control locks on nearly every other channel. "This is stupid!" Nessa exclaimed, flipping through hundreds of parental control messages. "Enter code to watch? Why have all these channels if nobody can watch them?"

She was about to give up, when she noticed a piece of paper taped to the underside of the remote. Turning the device over in her hand, she discovered that Frex had taped the parental control password to the bottom of the little machine. "Wow. Daddy must think I'm stupid or something." She commented, imputing the numeric code to deactivate the lock on whatever channel she'd happened to flip to. She soon discovered that it was none other than the GVC—Gratuitous Violence Channel. Almost instantly, the image of two thugs carrying lethal-looking weapons appeared onscreen.

"Shut your damn mouth!" The larger thug hissed, firing off a tirade of other swearwords Nessa had never even heard of. "If you think you can get away with murdering my sister in cold blood, you've got another thing coming!" And with that, he charged at his adversary, brandishing a rusty metal pipe.

The gratuitous display of violence and foul language inexplicably intrigued the young girl, so she settled back into her wheelchair and watched the torrential bloodbath play itself out.

* * *

Just as the poorly-written excuse for a plot began to thicken, the doorbell rang. If it were possible, Nessa would've jumped out of her seat, she was startled so badly. Putting on her most intimidating-looking face, she cautiously approached the door and peeked out the window, picking up a toy baton to use as a weapon in case it happened to be a vicious street gang hell-bent on avenging their dead sisters.

Outside stood the teenager from the bakery, carrying five bags crammed to the top with dessert items.

Nessa opened the door as the delivery boy peeked out from behind the bags. "What the hell do _you_ want?!" She interrogated, glaring up at the teenager, waving the baton around in what she thought was a menacing fashion, and trying her hardest to imitate the men in the movie.

"I was told to deliver this food to Governor Frexspar Thropp's mansion." He replied, trying to stifle a laugh. He found the notion of a little girl in a wheelchair scowling up at him, threatening him with a bright pink baton quite amusing, but didn't want to take any unnecessary chances.

"Ohhhh!" She exclaimed, slapping the baton into her free hand. "My lunch! I'll take that!"

"Are you sure you can carry all this stuff?" The bakery clerk asked. "Heck, _I _can barely carry all this stuff!"

"Just leave the bags on the porch." Nessa commanded, pointing the baton at him and shooting a furtive glance up the road to see if Frex and Elphaba had inexplicably decided to come home early. If either of them caught her with all that junk food, there'd be no way she could pin _this_ one on the nurse.

"All right..." The teenager replied, mildly suspicious, as he turned to leave. Suddenly, he stopped. "Hey, you forgot the tip!" He exclaimed, marching back up to the porch.

"The what?" Nessa asked, genuinely confused.

"The tip, kid. T-I-P." The delivery boy explained. "I deliver you stuff, and you give me extra money for delivering it."

"But taking money out of my dad's desk is _stealing_!" Nessa whined.

"Credit card fraud's illegal too!" He retorted. "Not to mention, when you first came out here, you looked like you were going to try and bash my skull in with that baton!"

"I have two pieces of taffy and a rock." Nessa offered after digging into her pockets.

"Um…that's nice." The teenager sighed, uninterested. "You can keep it. I should go back to work anyway." And with that, he plodded away and headed back up the road, defeated.

Nessarose smugly grinned and hoisted a few of the bags onto her lap. Aside from the incident with the unidentifiable, nightmarish glop, this day was going surprisingly well.

* * *

About an hour later, the Thropps' den was littered with bakery bags, cookie crumbs, strawberry icing, bits of donut, candy wrappers, melted ice cream, and empty cartons of pudding. Nessa was sprawled out onto the floor, her face and dress covered with pink frosting and green ice cream, clutching her stomach and moaning every so often. Within sixty minutes, she'd watched no fewer than thirty television gangsters shout obscenities at and brutally slaughter each other on the Gratuitous Violence Channel and developed a severe stomachache from the junk food. She must have eaten about twice her own weight in sweets.

If Frex had come home that very minute, he would probably have had a heart attack at the sight of the sticky mess.

_"I deserve…a vacation like this every day…"_She managed to squeeze into one line of song with a satisfied grin. And with that, the credits for the unnecessarily violent movie she'd been watching began to roll and she drifted off into an afternoon nap.

**-To Be Continued-**


	6. Pencil Perils

**Disclaimer:**I only own Wicked in my own imagination. I would also like to credit Elfy and Nimby for the ideas for Elphaba's latest destination, even if they don't remember thinking of them.

**Author's Note: **It has been far too long since I last updated. Never fear—Chapter Six is here! And whatever you do…be sure not to eat the strawberry cake from the last chapter. Believe me, it's not pretty.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Pencil Perils**

As Nessa was mindlessly indulging in the Gratuitous Violence Channel and engorging herself on junk food, down at Munchkinland Square Park, Elphaba and Frex sat on a bench, an awkward silence hanging in the air between them. A group of boys and their dads were laughing and tossing a quoxball back and forth along the grassy field about a dozen yards away. "Hey, Elphiekins, wouldn't it be oodles and oodles of fun to play catch with those other kids out there?" Asked Frex, nearly drooling at the notion of competitive athletics.

Elphaba glanced at her father, shooting him a look that insinuated, "How dumb do you think I am?"

Frex heaved a sigh and stood up, dusting off his pants and starting to trudge down the sidewalk in defeat. Elphaba quickly hopped to her own feet and scampered down the path after him. "Hey Daddy, what are you doing?" She asked.

"I can't believe it!" Frex muttered to himself out loud. "I thought all kids liked boats and Quoxball! What does this one DO anyway?"

"I_told_ you, I want to go to the library," Elphaba exclaimed as she followed her father through the park.

"Why would anybody want to go to a place like that?" Frex retorted, quickening his pace. "Libraries are all full of…books…and you can't do anything but sit around and be quiet…"

"I_like_ reading," Elphaba urged as they walked out into the village. "Where are we going _now_, Daddy?"

"You'll see soon enough," Frex hissed through a downright demented, forced smile, even though he had absolutely no clue as to where he was even going himself. "And I _know_ you're going to have loads of fun, _whether you like it or not!_"

Elphaba couldn't help but cringe at that last statement.

* * *

Inspiration finally struck the Governor as they plodded past a dumpster. Just as he walked by the oversized garbage bin, the wind picked up, sending an empty wrapper from a case of SuperSharp Brand pencils flying straight for the man's forehead. As Frex hastily pulled the scrap of cellophane from his face, he noticed an ad just above the company's logo…

Elphaba, confused, watched as her father did an about-face and nearly sprinted off in the opposite direction, clutching the wrapper in his hand. Something told her that nothing good could possibly come of this turn of events.

* * *

Frex finally stopped in front of a large, gray, industrial-looking building. "We're here!" He giddily announced, the psychotic grin plastered back on his face once more, glancing around to check if any of the Wizard's officials were watching him. The grin was actually even wider than it had been that morning, if that were even possible.

"Do I dare even _ask_ where you've taken me?" Elphaba grumbled, fiddling with the now-dry cheese stain on her skirt.

"We are about to take a fun, _free_ educational tour of the SuperSharp Pencil Factory!" Frex squealed, squatting down a bit to bring himself to his daughter's eye level and squeezing her shoulder just a bit too hard for her liking. "This is going to be_just_ like going to the library, only you'll be _right there_ watching the pencils get assembled instead of only being able to read about it and look at the pictures!"

As her father basked in his apparent belief that he'd finally found an activity Elphaba would enjoy, the green girl stood gawking, stunned and wondering why anyone in their right mind would want to read a book about the way factories assemble pencils in the first place. "I..er.._wow._" she stammered, completely at a loss for words. "This is definitely…nothing like anything I could have ever expected." She finally finished, forcing an infinitesimal grin onto her verdant visage.

"I_knew_ you'd love it!" Frex exclaimed, nearly jumping for joy and thinking he might actually be in the clear for once, despite how unbearably boring the notion of touring a pencil factory seemed to him. In any event, being stuck in that building for an hour or two sounded much better than anything the Wizard could have possibly done to him if they ever found out how he really treated Elphaba, so he practically skipped into the building, whistling a merry tune to himself, with the child hesitantly plodding behind him.

As Frex bounded over to the front desk, the secretary couldn't help but notice that the middle-aged man approaching her seemed to be unnaturally thrilled to be in this factory. She adjusted her obnoxiously large blonde hairdo and asked in a nasal voice, "How may I help you, sir?"

"I'm here to take the _free_ factory tour with my _favorite_daughter, Elphaba!" Frex announced as if he'd just won the lottery, patting the oddly-colored girl standing next to him on the head. His daughter looked noticeably less excited about the tour.

Elphaba glanced around the room they'd entered, which was just about as gray and drab as the outside of the building. There were a few heavy, industrial-looking steel doors scattered along the perimeter of the chamber. In the center of the room was a bland gray rug featuring the company's mascot, an anthropomorphic pencil with a grin about as psychotic-looking as her father's plastered onto its face. The desk she and Frex were standing at was the only piece of furniture in the room—there wasn't even a magazine rack filled with mildly interesting reading material for visitors to read while they waited.

She assumed that therefore, the SuperSharp Pencil Factory did not accommodate visitors very often.

The secretary sat in her chair, mildly stunned. On only one other occasion in her entire twenty-year career at SuperSharp did she ever encounter an inquiry about the factory tour, and that had been from a schoolboy who'd asked if anyone ever actually _took_ it, and then left. "Um…of course you can take the tour. Let me just…er…find the tour guide. You can wait here in the lobby. It won't take very long."

Elphaba sighed as the woman all but scampered down the hall and disappeared into one of the doors. She slumped against the secretary's desk. Making that call to the Emerald City Department of Child Welfare was the worst mistake she'd ever made in her life. Her plan had completely and utterly backfired in the worst possible way—not only had she failed to get rid of Frex, she'd actually been forced into_spending time_ with him. And on top of that, she very quickly figured out that the man was so selfish, he'd planned the entire day based around things _he_ thought would be fun, instead of taking _her_ interests into account. The pancakes, the sailing trip, the Quoxball game, and now this…ridiculous pencil tour were definitely _not _things she'd have decided to do if she'd been given any say in the matter.

"So," Frex finally uttered after a tense moment of silence. "Are you having fun, Elphaba?"

After a moment that seemed like a lifetime, the preteen met her father's eager gaze with a glare powerful enough to send a shiver up the governor's spine. For the first time, he finally began to comprehend that perhaps he'd misjudged his oldest daughter. As the girl's brown eyes bored into his own, he realized how much they resembled Melena's—yet at that moment, they were brimming with an almost inhuman mixture of pent-up hate, anger, and frustration that until that second, he'd never in his life imagined he'd ever encounter.

Elphaba was just about to reply with a sarcastically biting remark, when the secretary ambled back into the lobby with a dull-looking man with a comb-over following closely behind. "This is Mr. Deggins. He will be your tour guide." The secretary squawked, snapping the eleven-year-old back to earth and nearly scaring Frex into jumping out of his trousers.

"H-how do you do?" Frex stammered, shaking the pale, skinny, newcomer's hand with enough force to send him flying _through_ the wall and into whatever machinery the pencil plant held. Deggins cringed and withdrew his hand, shuddering at the customer's overweening enthusiasm.

"Please follow me down this hall," He instructed in a monotonous voice, motioning for the Thropps to follow him. Elphaba gingerly stood up, dusting off her skirt, following her father and this dreadfully dreary gentleman into the heart of the SuperSharp Pencil Factory.

* * *

As the trio trudged past window after window, gazing at conveyor belts, mechanical arms, various machine parts, and more pencils than any sane human being could ever want or need to see in their entire lifetime, Elphaba wondered again why she was letting her father put her through all this shameless torture. Did she _really_ care how many different kinds of graphite the plant processed and sorted, or how much pressure was needed to insert the erasers, which come in fourteen different colors?

As she watched thousands of threads of graphite being sliced and dropped into mechanical pencil shafts, she blocked out Mr. Deggins' unnecessarily repetitive drone, focusing instead on the matter at hand. If she allowed Frex to drag her to any more of these "fun" activities, out of complete and utter madness she would pull out all of her hair and eat it.

Frex, on the other hand, seemed genuinely interested in the onslaught of unnecessary pencil trivia he'd acquired.

"Wow, Elphaba, can you _believe _they really process over six dozen different kinds of graphite here? I didn't know that!"

"Elphaba, look! See the machine sorting and slicing the wood there? Isn't that neat?"

"Do you think they produce colored pencils here too? Maybe I should pick some up for Nessa before we leave…"

"How much pressure is required to pack the graphite into the wood again?"

Her father's questions and commentary were what _really_ made the trip unbearable. Half the time he was merely repeating Deggins in a moderately less boring voice. The other half, he was prompting more questions he could later repeat in absolute astonishment. Either way, Elphaba Thropp was liable to snap at any given moment. Her hands nearly shaking from frustration, she followed the two men up to yet another window, tuning out the tour guide.

"Hey Elphaba…" Frex suddenly began.

At that moment, Elphaba finally succumbed to her pent-up rage. The hair on the back of the child's neck began to stand on end, as a fervent burst of resentment and irritation coursed its way through her very being. _"SHUT UP!" _ She roared. As the sound echoed throughout the otherwise silent factory, all of the machines began to seize up and spastically shoot pencil parts everywhere. The lights flickered, a rogue mechanical arm shattered several windows, and Deggins turned several shades paler than he already was—a commendable feat considering his complexion was quite pasty to begin with.

"Oh—oh my! Oh dear me, there appears to be some sort of malfunction…" He stammered, frantically pacing about as he tried to pinpoint a logical explanation for the problem.

Frex, of course, knew _exactly_ what had just occurred, and to put it lightly, wasn't taking it very well. His effervescent, inquisitive demeanor had instantly transformed into a glowering frown as soon as he felt the air around him begin to change the way it did every other time his daughter got caught up in any of "that funny business." By the time the factory began to go haywire, his own face was starting to turn purple with fury, a vein popping out on his forehead, all thoughts of the Emerald City Department of Child Welfare momentarily forgotten. He seized the child's wrist and sprinted down the halls in an attempt to avoid being attacked by any of the renegade machinery. Alarms began wailing and red lights flashed throughout the factory as the manual override failed to function. Several pencils shot past the two of them. "There is something _wrong_ with you—you've got _problems!_" Frex roared at his daughter, whose eyes had begun to brim with tears.

"I'm sorry Daddy! It was an accident! Honest!" Elphaba pleaded as they raced out of the factory. It wasn't a moment too soon—mere seconds after they left, an electrical surge caused a massive fire to break out in the woodcutting chamber.

"To hell with this!" He continued as he slowed down once they got out of the disaster area. "We are going back to the mansion, so I can forget this day ever even happened!"

For the second time since waking up that morning, Elphaba fought to suppress a grin.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	7. The Jig Is Up

**Disclaimer: **I solemnly swear I own nothing. Nothing at all. Maybe eighty-three cents and a stick of gum, but that's it, honest!

**Author's Note: **Yes, the update is horrendously late. But that's what I get for being an animator-in-training. Thanks for sticking with me all this time, I truly appreciate it!

* * *

**Chapter 7: The Jig Is Up**

Frex fought to suppress his grimace as he plodded up the road to the mansion with a rather introspective Elphaba in tow. A sparkling, green carriage sat parked neatly by the side of the street near the Thropp residence. The governor took one glimpse of the glistening vehicle and his mind instantly began to race in terror. The jig was up, it seemed. He instinctively seized the girl by the arm and darted behind a nearby bush, yanking the preteen into the shrubbery with him.

"Elphaba, when we get back inside, I don't want to hear a peep out of you, got it?" He hissed in her ear, as he glanced up and down the road for any signs of the Wizard's officials. "I mean it--any more funny business and the pitiful amount of toys you've got in your possession are going to belong to your sister!"

Elphaba absently nodded as she strained to see the carriage through the bushes. She racked her mind for a last-minute means of getting her father to inadvertently expose his true nature. The officials had, without question, made it into the mansion before them. Ergo, there was also a good chance that they'd already interrogated the nurse and Nessarose on the matter. Considering the fact that the nurse's job and Nessa's toy income directly depended on Frex's presence, the odds were probably stacked in the governor's favor.

Especially now, considering the fact that her father seemed so intent on perpetuating his pathetic act despite the incident at the pencil factory. Elphaba wondered to herself if the officials had even taken note of Frex's unholy outburst.

Frex let the psychotically phony grin creep its way back onto his face as he slowly stood up and ruffled his daughter's hair. However, this time there was an extra inkling of desperation in that blatant lie of a smile, which sent a cold shiver up his daughter's spine. He pulled her out of the shrubbery and held her a little too close for her liking as the two of them made their way back to the mansion. Nothing would be able to prepare the governor for the turn of events that would await him on the other side of the mansion's entrance.

As he slowly turned the knob, the door swung open with a foreboding creak. The interior of the mansion was eerily dark. "Do you think the nurse took Nessa somewhere?" Elphaba whispered out loud. A knot settled in the pit of Frex's stomach as he instinctively gripped his oldest child's hand in trepidation. The two of them started to hear voices coming from the den as they gradually drew closer to the room.

Inside the den, two men clad in an impossibly bright shade of green were tending to Nessarose. Elphaba's younger sister looked as though she'd ingested an entire bottle of dish detergent. She was about two shades paler than usual. She was also clutching her stomach, with an agonized grimace plastered on her tragically adorable visage.

"Frexspar Thropp, I presume?" The shorter of the two gentlemen barked as he adjusted his sparkling green top hat and sauntered up to Elphaba and her father. It was painfully obvious that he had munchkin blood in him, seeing as he was merely a few inches taller than Elphaba was. Despite his stature, he struck Frex with a piercing glare that sent chills down the governor's spine. Frex forced a stiff nod as the official flashed an emerald badge at him. "I'm with the Emerald City Department of Child Welfare, and I am hereby placing you under arrest for the mistreatment and neglect of one Elphaba Thropp."

Frex broke into a cold sweat. He opened his mouth in protest, but no sound came out. Elphaba fought to suppress a grin as the squat, portly little man continued. "Honestly, are you trying to _kill_ the child?"

The governor sputtered, "Of course not! I spent the entire goddamn day with the whiny brat! Not only that, the ungrateful little whelp kept complaining that she was bored the whole time!" His face started to turn purple, and the remaining bits of hair he had left after that nightmare of a day began to stand on end. "If that's your idea of neglect, I suggest you consult a dictionary, Mr. Department of Child Whatever it is!" He finished, with flecks of spittle flying through the air and deftly whacking the smaller man in the face.

However, the portly official remained unfazed by Frex's tantrum. "If that's the case, then why did we find Miss Elphaba sprawled out over the floor, clutching her stomach and moaning for her father to get home?" The official quipped, jerking a thumb back at Nessarose, who looked like she was about ready to hurl. "What kind of sick, twisted parent leaves a handicapped child home alone for hours on end?"

Frex began to sweat all over again. Meanwhile, Elphaba just stood rooted firmly in the doorframe, her eyes wide. Why did the officials mix her up with Nessarose? And why hadn't Nessa bothered to correct them, either?

The girls' father was _not _amused. "That isn't Elphaba at all!" He roared, pointing at Nessarose as his left eye began to twitch incessantly and a vein popped out on his forehead. "The nurse was supposed to be here watching her! It isn't my fault that my employees are completely incompetent!" He fumed and turned towards Elphaba, seizing her by the forearm and yanking her into the conversation. "_This_ is Elphaba, and I just spent our entire day having some quality father-daughter bonding time!"

The head official stifled a laugh and pulled out a copy of the letter the department had sent Frex. "Is that so? Read this a little more carefully, Governor Thropp." He taunted, handing Frex the copy of the letter. "According to the phone call we received prior to our investigation, Elphaba has suffered from a rare and unusual physical condition since birth, and the child _you _claim is Elphaba appears to be perfectly healthy."

Frex's jaw nearly hit the ground. "She's GREEN, for Oz's sake!" The governor bellowed loud enough to make the entire room tremor. "How many green children do you see wandering around on a daily basis? Really, sir, what sort of rubbish do they TEACH you people when you apply to be a child welfare representative?"

"Wasn't there a big Quoxball scrimmage between the Wizards and the Blue Diamonds this afternoon?" The man tending to Nessarose's stomachache pointed out. "He probably just painted his other daughter green because he's a Wizards fan!"

"I am NOT a Wizards fan!" Sputtered Frex. The official frowned and stared at the myriad assortment of Wizards paraphernalia on Frex's person.

"Daddy, I don't think lying is a very good idea…" Elphaba started, but her father ignored her warning and continued his explosive tirade against the portly government official.

"QUIET, YOU SNIVELING INGRATE!" Frex snapped as the shorter man shook his head in an expression that was somewhere in between disgust and amusement. The governor turned to his younger daughter. "Nessie, honey. You don't want the mean old men to take your favoritest daddy in the whole, wide world away, do you? Tell them the truth! Tell them that you're not Elphaba, and that this whole incident has just been a big misunderstanding! If you do, they won't lock me up, and I'll buy you that Wizards hat you've always wanted!"

Nessa glanced up at the spectacle before her. Her father was looking down at her, his future as well as her own hinging on her response. Both officials were awaiting the young girl's reply, and Elphaba had shrunk back into the outer fringes of the den in hopes that this would all end soon. The youngest of the Thropp sisters took a deep breath, put on her best gangster pout despite her current state of gastrointestinal dysfunction, and flatly stated, "Daddy, go screw yourself!"

Frex fainted before the Child Welfare representatives could even make a move to slap the handcuffs on him.

----

Before the men carried their father away to the city for his trial, Elphaba reassured them that the nurse would arrive to take care of the sisters in due time, and told them not to worry. Although the officials remained a bit skeptical, they eventually conceded to leaving the two girls home alone.

That evening, it had started to rain all over again. Elphaba lay in her bed, unable to fall asleep. Even though her plan had worked perfectly, she still found herself lost in her own thoughts. As she stared at the ceiling, Nessa's night light casting a subtle glow across the mountains of toys and piles of books on her side of the room, Elphaba sat up in bed. The clock hadn't even struck ten yet. "Hey Nessa?" She asked.

Nessarose rolled over from beneath the pile of blankets, knocking about a dozen stuffed animals onto the floor in the process. "Is it breakfast time yet?" She groggily mumbled as she strained to focus in the darkness.

"Do you even know what 'go screw yourself' _means_?" Elphaba interrogated as she raised an eyebrow in skepticism.

"I heard it on the Gratuitous Violence Channel and it sounded like it was a mean thing to say." Nessarose shrugged, blinking a few times as she pulled an armful of toys closer to her to keep them from falling off the bed.

"We get the Gratuitous Violence Channel?" Elphaba wondered out loud.

"We have a lot of channels Daddy never told us about. He left the password taped to the remote. How dumb does he think I look?"

"So you really wanted him gone too?" Asked Elphaba. Nessarose nodded. "You were always his favorite though! He spoiled you rotten!"

The smaller child looked over at her sister with those enormous green eyes of hers and shook her head. "Every time he ever takes me out to do stuff with him he always makes me do boring things like watch Quoxball with him and go on his stupid boat!" She whined. "And then the boat always falls over and he has to carry me home like I'm some kind of little kid cause my wheelchair sinks every time!"

"He took me to a pencil factory too." Elphaba added as she leaned back on her mattress, cringing as a rogue spring jabbed her in the spine. "Really though, Daddy always seemed to think you actually liked sailing and Quoxball."

"I guess he thinks _all_ kids like sailing and Quoxball." Nessarose deduced after a few moments of silence. "I think I like drawing better."

"And watching the Gratuitous Violence Channel, apparently." Elphaba smirked. "Anyway, thanks." She added as Nessa snuggled the stuffed lion she'd thrown across the room earlier that day.

"Hey Elphaba?" The younger girl suddenly asked after the wind howled through a tree outside their window and the rain began to pick up. "D'you think you could sleep in my bed tonight?"

Elphaba rolled over and blinked a few times. "Is there even any room in your bed for me with all those toys?" She retorted.

Her younger sister shoved almost all of her stuffed animals off the bed in reply. "There." She declared with a hint of a pout. "Now get over here or I'll bash your face in."

Elphaba recoiled at the child's uncharacteristically violent threat. What did her sister _watch_ on the GVC that afternoon anyway? In any event, she obliged and climbed into the larger bed next to Nessarose. "You know, I'm glad you're my sister…even if you can be a spoiled brat sometimes."

"Good." Nessarose smiled. "Because tomorrow we are having pancakes again, and you're making them. So don't mess it up!"

The older sister fought back a laugh as Nessa snuggled up to her and drifted off to sleep. As the falling rain echoed off the windowpanes and the wind lulled her into the best night's sleep she'd had in ages, Elphaba hoped to the Unnamed God that the nurse would arrive in time to make breakfast before her little sister woke up. For all the chores she'd been forced into doing, she still had no idea how to make a decent pancake.

The next morning, the green girl awoke to a jabbing sensation between her shoulder blades. She scrambled out of bed with a yelp and inspected the spot where she'd been resting. Sometime in the middle of the night, she had accidentally rolled on top of Malibu Barbie.

**The End**


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